


i'll be with you or without

by end_thistragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Emotional Cheating, M/M, Post (attemped) Divorce, sweet home alabama-ish au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In retrospect, Zayn realizes he probably shouldn’t have spent an inappropriate amount of time drinking with Louis the night before he was meant to officially file for divorce.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Half signed papers sat on his lap and a drink of whiskey in his hand, Zayn felt the urge to vent and Louis, with a tendency towards being ill-behaved suggested lighting a fire in the backyard to burn off some well-deserved Harry steam and. Well. Along with some trivial things that Zayn remembers from his life with Harry, Zayn drunkenly throws the papers that Harry signed into the fire.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be with you or without

**Author's Note:**

> this popped into my head after i wrote _fool them all like gold_ and it's another the result of me trying to tease out zayn and harry as characters and as zarry 
> 
> anyway this is heavily based on sweet home alabama and the title from years & years' without which is probably a Good song to accompany this
> 
> p.s. the divorce process here is completely fictional and simplified for the purposes of this story!

In retrospect, Zayn realizes he probably shouldn’t have spent an inappropriate amount of time drinking with Louis the night before he was meant to officially file for divorce.

Half signed papers sat on his lap and a drink of whiskey in his hand, Zayn felt the urge to vent and Louis, with a tendency towards being ill-behaved suggested lighting a fire in the backyard to burn off some well-deserved Harry steam and. Well. Along with some trivial things that Zayn remembers from his life with Harry—but certainly not the important things like his ring, pictures of them together, the blanket they'd bought for an outdoor concert, the same one they fucked on while lying on their living room floor, Zayn's body over Harry's back, pressing him into the ground, Harry's hands gripping onto the fabric so hard his knuckles were a near translucent white—Zayn drunkenly throws the papers that Harry signed into the fire.

The morning after he doesn't remember anything and when Zayn asks about the papers at work, Louis thumps him on the head and tells him that he’d already dealt with it, which Zayn can't actually confirm, but trusts Louis enough if not too much with keeping his life in order.

It’s only as months and years pass with Harry’s name still randomly popping up, on mail, on Zayn’s accounts, him having to call the bank, creditors, explain to his landlord, and tell them he’s been divorced for nearly three years now, and Harry Styles-Malik’s name should not be anywhere near his.

It’s only as he meets Perrie and falls in love with her, that he realizes he may actually need to address the issue.

Zayn doesn’t know what else to do but call Louis, telling him everything, and worrying about the fact that “it's like we're still married, it's freaking me out. How long does it take until that stops happening?" He asks, hopefully.

"Hold on,” Louis says, and Zayn can hear the exaggerated clicking of a mouse in the background, “Let me just scroll through all the experience I have with divorce." His sarcasm is jarring. "How should I know?"

Zayn smacks his lips, irritated. "It's not just now, though. It's been happening for years. Think his names still listed somewhere?”

"Doesn't filing just like...singe it all away?"

"I don't think it works like that, Lou. And like—we did everything so fast. Not a lot of thinking went on."

"Did you not read the fine print, Zayn?"

"No one reads the fine print." Zayn says, defensive. He did not read the fine print. "Like. Look. I don't want to sound paranoid but...you did file them, right? The papers?"

There's a long enough silence on the other end that makes Zayn's stomach drop.

"No...” Louis says, carefully. "Zayn. What the fuck. You do understand that I couldn't have filed your divorce for you, right? Please don't tell me you thought that."

"Louis." Zayn's very near hyperventilating.

"Oh my god."

"You didn't tell me that, Louis! I thought you took care of all of it!"

"I sent him the papers because you couldn’t bear to do it. And then I left them on your desk when he sent them back and you took them home. I even left a note reminding you to file them!" Louis shouts at him. "Zayn, what did you do?”

"I don't—I don't know! I honestly thought you took care of it!"

"What the hell did you think I was talking about when I asked if it was all said and done?"

"I thought you were talking about our relationship not the legal bits!"

"Jesus, man. This is bad." Louis says, but he sounds like he's laughing. "This is beyond fucked up."

"Is isn't funny, Louis. How am I supposed to explain to my fiancé that I'm already married?"

"With a lot of tears and groveling, I reckon."

"Not helping!"

"Don't tell her, man. You're already visiting your folks, you might as well do a little drop by on the old ball and chain while you're at it."

"I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"I haven’t exactly,” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat, uncomfortable, “I haven't spoken to him since,” He admits, “Can't you send them again?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to do it yourself?"

"Absolutely not. Lou, you don't understand. You haven't met him."

"Then make me understand." Louis presses.

"You wouldn't get it."

"Oh. Okay, I see."

"What?"

"You're afraid."

"What? Shut up, I'm not."

"No, really. You're like actually terrified."

"Why would I be terrified? I've known him my whole life."

"I didn't say you were afraid of him." Louis says. "It's yourself you're worried about." He sighs, sounding artificially empathetic, "He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Fuck off."

"You barely talk about it! It's always vague references to places you went, to things you did together. It's always the "old place with Harry" or "when I went with Harry." Fucking hell. You never gave him character! I only know what he looks like because of Liam."

"I should've never introduced the two of you."

"No, probably not. Add it to your growing list of massive fuck ups. He wants you to call him sometime, by the way. You’ve missed a lot. Like, a lot."

"Why is he contacting you?” Zayn turns it around, expertly, refusing to acknowledge the giant arrow pointing right at his head, “He has a wife."

"Yes, and they're a very beautiful couple. We're friends, Zayn. Friends who keep in touch. Unlike the two of you. What’s it been, three years?"

"He chose a side, obviously. It's not my fault."

"I wish I could have another side to choose, but I know nothing about Harry!"

"With good reason. You'd be terrible together. He'd idolize you."

"Hmm. You're not actually making this sound like a bad thing."

"Please just help me, Louis. I'm about to lose my mind."

"This is out of my hands, young Zayn. It’s all up to you, now. So get a fresh new set of papers, pack them in your suitcase and get your ass back home."

"Oh my god." Zayn says, "Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

\---

He flies in in just under three hours, arriving in the late afternoon and getting a taxi into town.

It's upsettingly the same. The same corner store with the same graffiti on its brick walls. The same dilapidated building across from the post office. The same pothole ridden streets and the same depressing playground by the elementary school.

He decided to rent a car from one of the only two companies in town, making sure to contact the company the closest to the outskirts of town in order to avoid running into anyone that might recognize him. Renting a car would make it easier to get around without being bound to his parents or having to ask old friends, more than likely Liam, to drive him straight to Harry. He didn't exactly want everyone in his life to know how much he'd fucked up.

He's avoiding seeing his family until he has this thing with Harry sorted all out. He'd feel dishonest going to them and announcing his engagement when he's still betrothed to another. His mother didn't raise him like that.

He sees Liam first, ringing the doorbell of the house that used to belong to all of the Payne family, and now, with Liam’s parents moved out of town in an entirely different country after retirement, and his sisters living in different cities, belonging to Liam.

There’s a distinct sound of paws hitting against what Zayn remembers is the wooden paneled floor of the front hall, and a telling bark, but it takes Liam a bit to actually get to the door. Zayn almost bolts, succumbing to his nerves, but Liam’s there, opening the door, and grabbing the dog by its collar to hold him back and staring at Zayn with wide eyes.

“Uhm,” Zayn speaks, uncomfortable, “Surprise?”

Liam nearly cries when he snaps out of it and realizes that Zayn is standing in front of him, underestimating his own build and damn near knocking Zayn off his feet. "Is this real?" He breathes, the breath knocked out of him by the force of their two bodies colliding.

“I mean—I think so. Feels real,” Zayn says, and Liam laughs. Zayn’s missed that a lot.

“I can’t believe this. You’re just as scrawny as I remember.”

Zayn makes a face, smacking his lips and pulling back to ruffle at Liam’s hair. "Missed you, too. Missed you loads." Liam’s dog is trying to climb up Zayn’s legs, and Zayn pulls away from Liam to grabs its paw and shake it, a nice to meet you.

"I missed you more." Liam counters.

"Impossible." Zayn says, "My love for you is infinite. Surpasses all others. Can't even be contained by our solar system."

"That's a lot of love."

"You deserve it." Zayn shrugs and pecks him on the cheek.

It’s half an hour later when Zayn hears a baby cry while they're sat on the couch and it makes him pause in the middle of his sentence, eyes probably comically wide as he says, "Are you babysitting?" and Liam blushes and responds, "Um. Not exactly." and Zayn can't actually believe it.

He admits that Louis might have been right. And that he should probably have checked in more, have contacted Liam instead of pretending that Liam had chosen a side. Or let Perrie make him a Facebook like she'd wanted to back when they'd first started dating in college.

Liam shows Zayn pictures of the nine month old Piper on his phone and Zayn sticks her hand in his mouth and pretends to eat it and she is positively delighted and giddily slaps his face with a high pitched giggle.

Liam takes Piper with him and Zayn to the bar that Niall owns now, waving off Zayn's concern, "You're taking a baby to a bar?"

"It's fine,” he says, lifting his shoulders in an unconcerned shrug, “Her mother's there."

Which is how Zayn learns that Liam is married to Sophia who is a waitress slash part-time bartender at the bar that Niall now owns.

Niall's got his snapback on backwards, sat at a table in the corner with a cigarette behind his ear, playing poker with a few faces Zayn remembers when they enter.

Zayn sees the exact moment Niall glances up, idly, before doing a double take and yelling, "I can't believe it!"

Zayn gets an armful of Niall and tries his best to hold on and keep them vertical, which is something Niall doesn't seem too preoccupied with. "Holy shit!"

"Hey, Ni."

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard this was the best bar in town. Wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"Damn right they are!" Niall's grin is blinding, "Zayn Malik! What are you drinking? It's on the house."

"No, Ni. Come on, let me pay."

Niall rolls his eyes at him playfully, "You always were too proud. Glad to see that hasn't changed." He tucks Zayn under his arm and says, "Fine, but I'm making it happy hour for exactly five minutes and drinks are half off!"

Zayn relents, knowing when to stop trying to fight against Niall's generosity. "All right, all right."

Niall cheers loudly, causing Zayn to smile, "Good man. Dee! Get Zayn here anything he wants!"

\--

Niall gladly fills him in on Harry’s life, explaining that Harry's now a pediatric dentist, following in his mother's footsteps and Zayn has to breathe deeply and convince himself that he is not affected by any of that at all.

When Niall tells him Harry should be working, Zayn gathers up all the courage he can manage and visits the family practice.

He’s been sitting in the waiting room thinking of a game plan for a little under half an hour when he hears Harry's voice from the hallway, "I know it looks yucky, but it tastes delicious, I promise. No—I pinky swear! And you know I take my pinky swears very seriously, don't you?"

The boy following him is red eyed and sniffing, but he nods sadly.

"You're so strong, Danny. I believe in you. Your dad's right over there waiting for you. I'll see you next time when you're bigger and healthier and stronger." Harry bends down and raises his hand, "Give me five." The boy slaps Harry's hand weakly, looking miserable, and Harry ruffles his hair. "Heyyyy look at me. You're gonna feel this much better!" Harry says, spreading his arms wide, like that's a proper measure of well-being.

Zayn's hand clenches around the magazine.

When the boy finally smiles, Harry looks pleased, and stands to shake Danny's dad's hand, a dimpled smile on his face.

When they leave, Harry goes over to the receptionist and she points behind him, right at Zayn.

Before Harry can turn around, though, Zayn chickens out and gets to his feet quickly, dropping the magazine and heading for the door. Of course, it's far too late for that and an uncertain voice says, "Zayn?" and Zayn freezes.

When he turns around Harry just looks pale and slightly nauseous, and Zayn is about to ask him if he's all right when Harry promptly falls to the floor.

Zayn watches him hit the ground and thinks, _that's not what I expected_.

\--

Anne is the first face Harry sees when he wakes up, and Zayn is grateful that she was in the building which is a change from when they were younger. She'd always be out of town, out of the state, out of the country, going to medical conferences, getting invitations to speak at Ivy Leagues, and once doing a program overseas for an entire year in which Harry had spent worrying and crying and texting and calling and Zayn spent coddling and cuddling and spoiling an overreacting Harry.

She'd helped Zayn carry him into her office and onto the couch and then immediately wrapped her arms around Zayn and said, "Oh sweetie! We've all missed you so much!"

Zayn had probably gone red and a pain might have pierced his chest as he remembered dinners with Harry's family; Christmas parties at their house; joint birthday parties even though Zayn was a year older and their birthdays were a month apart; BBQS with both their families; that time they invited Zayn to come with them to their house in the mountains for a weekend; the times he and Harry spent falling asleep trying to watch a movie, circled on the basement couch together with a DVD's start screen on loop; and that time they held hands in front of their families for the first time and their sisters had cooed at them; the time Anne walked in on them kissing on Harry's bed and teased about removing Harry's door if he wouldn't obey the "no-closed-door-with-Zayn-over" rule; the tearful and joyful look on Anne's face when they'd told her they were engaged; the look on both their families' faces when they said "I do."

Zayn had to blink away the memories before he started crying and apologizing for not keeping in touch with her and for breaking that glass bowl of fruit on the kitchen table and giving into Harry’s urging to blame it on Gemma.

Now, he's sat on the chair beside the bookshelf, leg shaking wildly where he's crossed it over the other. He's staring at the space of undecorated wall above Harry's body, when Harry wakes.

“Ugh,” he groans, “What happened?”

“You fainted, sweetheart,” Anne tells him gently. “Zayn says you saw him and hit the ground.”

Harry’s sitting up when she says it, and Zayn watches him tense, turning around and saying, guarded, “Is this…is this real?”

“It’s real,” Zayn tells him, wondering why everyone thinks his sudden appearances is so unbelievable that’s it dreamlike.

"Too real." Anne adds, getting to her feet. "I'll leave you to it. I'm no good at awkward situations."

Zayn watches her shut the door behind her and wishes she hadn't because suddenly it feels way too quiet and all the air in the room has gone.

“Why are you here?” Harry asks, immediately.

"I just came to see you."

"Bullshit. After years of radio silence you just decided to come home just because you felt like seeing me?”

"Okay, then I needed to see you." Harry opens his mouth to respond but Zayn stands up and says, "Where are you staying? Please just let me come over. We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk later, Zayn. You're here now. Why can't you just say what you have to say."

"Harry. Please." Zayn knows he's being unfair when he looks into Harry's eyes, when he begs. He knows what it does to Harry. He knows that Harry has never been able to tell him no.

"Fine." Harry relents. And Zayn knows that after all these years, nothing's changed.

Harry goes to his mom's desk and rifles through her things before he finds a notepad where he scribbles his address.

"I won't be home until after six."

Zayn takes the sheet from him, pretending that their fingers do not brush and that they do not feel ignited from the simple touch. "Thank you."

"It's whatever."

Zayn knows for a fact that it's not.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

Harry doesn't respond, instead turning and leaving his mother's office.

Zayn probably deserves that.

\---

Harry lives in the apartment building next to the Swap 'N Shop they bought their first pair of chairs from. They'd just moved in together—into a slightly nicer building on the other side of town—and they'd been too proud and happy to start a life of their own to receive any help from their parents so everything they owned came from thrift shops and the clearance at Big Lots and little shops ran by an older generation of families who still sold things for under twenty bucks.

The chairs had been Harry's idea. He'd stopped in his tracks when he saw them sporting a cobweb or two in the back corner of the store, causing Zayn to run straight into his back.

Zayn hadn't minded, just used it as an opportunity to wrap his arms around Harry's waist and press a kiss to his neck. "What is it, babe?" He'd asked.

"These are the most beautiful chairs I have ever seen."

Zayn had looked at them: small, shiny wooded things that looked like they were one of the first chairs ever made. They were padded with a speckled reddish fabric that was extremely unflattering.

Zayn loved them.

"I love them."

"Do you really?" Harry twisted around in Zayn's arms so he could wrap his arms around Zayn's waist as well. His face contorted into a pout. "You know you don't have to agree with me."

"I know." Zayn says, "But I do actually love them."

Harry smiles, cheeks dimpling. "They're really ugly."

"They're hideous." Zayn agrees.

"Should we buy them?"

"I think it would be a crime not to."

They'd had them for two months before Harry tried to straddle Zayn in one of them and it promptly gave under their combined weight. They'd laughed about it but that was after Zayn had to visit urgent care for his back because he'd taken the brunt of the fall and had pieces of wood jammed into his back. He had a large purple bruise at the bottom of his spine that wouldn't go away for over a month, while Harry only sported a cut on his elbow.

Zayn can sometimes still feel the permanent bruising it'd left when he bends his back the wrong way.

Perrie'd asked about it once after they'd fucked rather awkwardly on the couch and Zayn had to literally ice his back because it'd started to bother him.

Perrie knew about Harry from the get go. When they met, Zayn still wore his ring around his neck like it was second nature. She hadn't been thrown off by the explanation—the "It's funny, actually, like. I used to be married," that she'd gotten after they'd been talking in the kitchen of Louis' apartment for most of an hour and she noticed him fiddling with it. She took it well and wanted to know all about it--about Harry and how they met and why it ended and Zayn didn't think he would ever be an over sharer until he met someone who made him comfortable enough to want to.

Zayn has to psyche himself up before he gets out of his car, staring at the envelope in the passenger’s seat, his leg shaking up and down again, nerves getting to him.

"Fuck." He sighs, foolishly letting his head slam down on the steering wheel and making the horn sound. It gives him the jump he needs and if not for the fear of a certain someone looking out the window and seeing him sat in his car, but for the necessity of the situation, he gets out of the car and carries himself with struggling confidence into the building and up the stairs to Harry's door.

\---

_Harry_

It's nearly seven.

Harry's sat sunken down on the couch sipping occasionally at a glass of wine and distractedly flipping through channels on the television. His leftover takeout is still sitting unmoved on the coffee table from when he'd given himself over to nerves and couldn't bear to finish stuffing himself full of rice and veggies for fear that it would all just come back up.

He doesn't know why he's so nervous. He should be angry. He should be swearing at Zayn in his head, not thinking about how much he's missed him; missed being in the same room with him, missed hearing his voice, missed having his attention, missed loving him, missed touching him, missed kissing him.

Missed fucking him, if he's honest.

Harry thinks he remembers the last time they'd spent being genuinely happy together, but as time goes on the details are fading into idealized images of what he misses the most about the two of them.

He remembers it being a morning. One of those where Harry had gone for an early run and came back and showered before crawling back into bed with Zayn, fitting himself in front of Zayn's body so he could be cuddled the way he liked it best, and sleeping for another three hours.

He'd woken up on his back with Zayn's head propped on his stomach with his hand flat against Harry's skin, frowning rather cutely at his phone.

Harry had turned his head and smiled sleepily into his arm, resisting the urge to start going off about how unfair it was that Zayn could be that cute without trying when Harry has to try very hard. "Morning." He said instead.

Zayn glanced up at him and then turned his phone around to show Harry the screen. Harry had rubbed at his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows, squinting at the image.

It was a picture of Harry sleeping and Harry groaned and moved to grab the phone, but Zayn swatted him away and stuck his tongue out. "Mature." Harry said.

"You're cute." Zayn said, like that was a proper excuse, "I couldn't help it."

Harry nearly growled. "I feel so vulnerable. I am going to destroy you."

"Is that a promise?" Zayn wiggled his eyebrows and tossed his phone beside them so he could crawl up Harry's body and straddle his thighs, fitting there perfectly. "What're you gonna do to me? Come on. Since you're this big bad boy all of a sudden."

Harry had laughed breathlessly, whining, "Stop," and tried to reach out and put his hand over Zayn's mouth to get him to be quiet, but Zayn was undoubtedly stronger and pinned his arms down above his head, leaning over his body and smirking, "Or what? You gonna teach me a lesson? Want me to call you daddy?"

It had happened quicker than Harry had thought about it—him pulling himself away from Zayn's grip and grabbing his waist to turn their bodies around, Zayn landing on his back with a giggling squawk as Harry hovered over him and pinned his arms instead.

"Are you gonna stop now?" Harry questioned, pressing his thumbs into Zayn's wrist.

Zayn's eyes had flashed, and Harry recognized the look he'd seen many times. "Are you gonna make me?"

Thrown at the intensity in Zayn's eyes, Harry had lost his momentum, biting his lip and glancing down at their bodies, before looking back up at Zayn, almost coyly, “I can try."

Zayn had laughed and Harry had kissed him so he didn't have to hear Zayn tease him.

Harry startles at the timid sound of a knock at his door, rushing to set his glass down distractedly with a shaky hand and ending up hearing it slip off the table as he moves to get the door. He curses and detours into the kitchen instead to grab the towel from the stove handle. There's another knock, a bit more confident as Harry's on his knees soaking up the spill.

When the third knock comes, he says, "Fuck it. Oh my god," and goes to answer the door.

Zayn's standing there with his hair pulled back with a headband, wearing a marled grey sweater and black jeans and it is devastating.

But Harry is an adult and Zayn shouldn't make him speechless like this anymore. "Hi."

"Hey. You all right?" Zayn says.

"Peachy." Harry says, and he watches Zayn's hand come up to scratch at his low trimmed beard.

And Harry's known Zayn for most of his life. Was there when he first started to grow hair on his face, was there the first time Zayn rubbed at his beard when Harry knew he was telling a lie, was there the time he did it when he felt uncomfortable under the attention of both of their families at their grad party, asking him where he planned on going to school, why wasn't he leaving the state, why he was studying graphic design, what was he going to do with that, why were he and Harry not going to the same school, how were they going to work.

It was his tell and Harry had only ever had to deal with it himself when Zayn left for good.

He tenses, says, "Come in," and walks into the kitchen, not thinking straight, but knowing he wanted to put distance between them.

He watches Zayn size up the place, watches him trail his eyes over the coffee table, the tipped over wine glass, the towel on the floor, as he moves dishes around in the sink and turns the faucet on like he'd been in the middle of cleaning when it's quite obvious he hadn't.

"This is a nice place." Zayn says, annoyingly going for pleasantries, hovering by the armchair that's closest to the door.

The chair that used to be in their old apartment. The one Zayn once blew him in, Harry's nails digging into the cushions of the armrests, his legs resting over Zayn's shoulders as Zayn swallowed him all the way down with his arms wrapped around his upper thighs. Zayn had grinned afterwards, proud of himself because he'd worked really hard to get there.

The chair Harry rode him in after they'd had a bit too much to drink and didn't want to go all the way to their bedroom. His legs had been spread and bracketed Zayn's tiny thighs, Zayn's mouth dragging across Harry's skin, trailing up his chest, to his neck where he bit him and Harry came hard, untouched as Zayn fucked into him, his hair falling in his face.

Harry looks away when Zayn glances up. "Thanks," he says. He really hopes they're not remembering the same moments.

"So, like." Zayn drawls, "How was work?"

Harry snorts and turns the faucet off. He's had enough of this. "Zayn, please. Just rip the bandaid off. You're here for a reason. Are you sick? Are you dying? I know your mom's not or she would've told me. Is this a part of your bucket list? Were you pregnant and now you've come to tell me I've got a kid? Is that it?"

Zayn frowns and says, "You still talk to my mom?"

Of course Zayn focuses on that. He's always been a selective listener. It used to amuse Harry, but now it just pisses him off. "You think just because you're out of the picture I'm just gonna walk out of their lives? We were married, Zayn. They're my family, too. They had been for years."

"That's the thing." Zayn says, and he takes a step forward. It's so cautious, Harry wants to scream at him to stop being a fucking coward.

"What's the thing?" He asks, instead.

"So, like. They still are. Technically."

Harry narrows his eyes, wondering if Zayn had recently suffered a head trauma. "That is literally what I just said?"

"No, but." Harry can tell Zayn is starting to get frustrated with himself. If this were years ago, Harry would kiss the frown away, but instead he wants to punch him in the face, "Harry, legally they're still your family."

"I don't understand."

Zayn finally reaches the kitchen counter, pulling a folded envelope out of his back pocket and placing it on the marble next to the sink.

Harry looks at it, clueless, "Okay, what is this?"

"Thing is, yeah. You remember when we decided to end it?"

Harry doesn't correct him about how the split went. "Yeah?"

"So like we signed everything and made it all official. And it was my job to actually get them filed?"

"I know how this story goes." Harry says, his turn to get irritated.

"Listen, Haz. I could've sworn I'd taken care of it." Zayn says, sounding guilty, "But it turns out that never actually happened?"

Harry stops breathing. "So you mean...we're still—"

"Married? Yeah."

Harry has to sit down.

\---

_Zayn_

Harry looks like he's going to pass out and Zayn doesn't think he could deal with that. Doesn't trust himself to be there when Harry wakes up.

But Harry doesn't pass out. He explodes. "Three years, Zayn! Three years and you never bother to check if you actually filed for divorce!"

Zayn honestly hadn't expected yelling. "I think this goes both ways."

"I'm not the one who—" Harry comes to a halt. It's like he has to physically stop himself from speaking. "Look: it wasn't my responsibility. This is all on you. I signed the papers."

Zayn hates to admit it but he's got a fair point. Zayn's the idiot. But then again Harry's the idiot who married him in the first place. He knew what he was getting into. Idiots flock together.

"I made a mistake, Harry. And now I'm trying to fix it. I came to you so we could fix this together. So could you just. Sign them?"

Harry stares down at the envelope. Zayn can sees his hands clenched on the edge of the counter. His knuckles are white.

"Why now?" Harry asks," Why is it suddenly so important now?" But once it's out, he seems to come to a realization and Zayn hates the way he visibly deflates. It sparks something in Zayn's chest that he doesn't feel like dealing with right now. "Oh." Harry says, choking out a laugh, "Right."

Zayn bites his lip, but stays silent.

"You couldn't've just sent it in the mail? Wouldn't that have been easier? Would've been less stress, I bet. You wouldn't have to see me, then." Harry says, then, coldly, "And I wouldn't have to see you."

Zayn feels a stab at that. He doesn't think he deserves that. Harry's given him no choice but to turn petty. If he wants to be a petulant brat, then Zayn will too. "I didn't come here just to slap divorce papers in your face, Harry. I came to see my family and tell them in person. You were the last thing on my mind."

"Surprised I was even on your mind at all." Harry snaps back, snatching the envelope up and shoving it at Zayn's chest, "Get out of my apartment."

" _Harry_."

"Get out, Zayn."

"Or what? I'm not leaving until you sign these."

"Fuck them. And Fuck you." Harry spits, "Leave or I'm calling the cops."

"Harry, please just sign the papers." Zayn can resort to begging, if it's necessary. "And I'll leave you alone. I'll never speak to you again, if that's what you want."

"I want you to get out of my apartment, that's what I fucking want." Harry mutters, his voice trailing as he walks to his room and slams the door.

\--

When there's a knock at the front door, Harry finally comes out of his room, walking past Zayn silently to answer it.

He opens it and Liam's standing there, looking amused, but trying to stay professional.

"You actually called the cops?" Zayn says, incredulous from where he's sat on the couch. "What the fuck?"

He'd helped himself to a glass of wine; had rummaged through Harry's cabinets loudly, making it known he hadn't left and wouldn't. Harry actually had a wine cooler tucked in the corner of his kitchen by the trash bin. Zayn poured himself a glass of an unopened bottle all the up to the brim out of spite.

"I'm sorry guys, but I'm gonna have to ask you to keep it down." Liam sounds apologetic. "We've got some calls from neighbors complaining about shouting and banging. Now I don't like to police people's sex lives, and it's nice you're reconnecting but—"

"We weren't having sex!" Harry shouts, "And give me that." He moves to snatch the glass from Zayn's hand, but Zayn leans out of the way, watches Harry trip over himself and then resort to pouting instead. "Please just get him out of my apartment."

"Not until you sign the papers." Zayn shrugs, going for nonchalant, but probably just looking like a child not getting what he wants.

"What papers?" Liam asks, clueless, "Wait. What's going on?"

Zayn sinks into the couch, propping himself up on his elbow. He heaves a rather impressive sigh that he hopes conveys the tragedy of the situation. "We're still married, Liam."

"Like. Married, married?"

Zayn frowns, wondering how Liam even gets out of bed in the morning. "Yes."

"Shit." Liam says, then, after a contemplative moment where Zayn is sure Liam's brain is working overtime, "I'm sorry, so what's the problem here?"

"The problem is that he won't get out of my apartment when I've told him to leave. Isn't that grounds for arrest?"

"Well you did let him in. So not unless there's been a conflict between the two of you."

"Well then there was one."

Liam looks doubtful. "Can you prove it?"

"No, he can't." Zayn says, "Because there was none."

"I don't know – what counts as a conflict?"

Liam places his hand on his belt which is where his gun is so he must be getting serious now. "Harry, this really isn't something to play around with. You do know what you're implying? Don't say anything you'll regret." Harry bites his lip, looking guilty, and Liam says, "Look: I could calmly escort Zayn out of the building for disturbing the peace. Or something."

"Yes. Do that, then. It's settled." Harry moves to grab Zayn's arm probably to pull him up, but Zayn rolls away easily.

"Yeah, Liam, you could do that. Or." Zayn drawls, "I could tell your wife how and with whom you spent your week when you visited me in New York."

"I—" Liam gapes. It's very unbecoming. "We weren't married yet! We weren't even engaged."

"Fair point." Zayn lifts himself up to retrieve his phone from his back pocket, immediately swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it. "Let's just see if Sophia sees it that way, yeah?"

"Don't!" Liam says, diving for Zayn's phone.

"Is that even legal? He's blackmailing you! Arrest him for that!"

"He won't risk it. Will you, Liam?" Zayn says, scrambling to the other side of the couch.

"Jesus. You've gotten more squirrely. How do you move that fast?"

"Li. Liam. Just. Give us a few more minutes, could you?"

"No!" Harry nearly whines, then, it's like a light bulb turning on and Harry gets this mischievous look in his eyes that makes Zayn start to worry, "Liam! Wait. Danielle!"

Liam pales, turning to consider Harry with a solemn look on his face. "What?"

Zayn gives Harry his own odd look before he remembers his sophomore year of high school and what went down between Liam and Danielle. It's the why that has him sitting up and pointing at Harry, "Don't you dare."

Harry smirks at him, folding his arms across his chest like he's suddenly all big and powerful now. "You remember all the times you spent crying and wondering what happened that made her break up with you?"

Liam glances between Harry and Zayn, looking almost afraid for his life. Zayn doesn't blame him. "Yeah, but. You know I don't like to think ab—"

"Zayn—" Harry starts, but Zayn throws a pillow at his head and shouts, "Harry killed your turtle in eighth grade and then bought a new one so you wouldn't notice!"

"He what?" Liam turns on Harry, "I thought she was sick! She was a shade lighter! You came with me to the Vet! You assured me she was ok!"

"Well he was!"

"He?" Liam says, "Oh my god."

"No. Shut up! This isn't about me. This is about Zayn and how he—"

"Harry's the one who made the dent in your car!" Zayn interrupts, before Harry can continue, and Harry groans.

Liam pouts, "You convinced me that I did that when I was drunk. I didn't drink for a whole year after that!"

Harry, fed up, shouts, "I walked in on Zayn and Danielle fucking in the bathroom the night of her birthday party!"

The room stills.

Liam turns on Zayn, fire in his eyes. "What the fuck!"

Zayn holds out his hands, hoping it will calm Liam down. Zayn's afraid he's about to get punched. "Listen—it meant nothing." He tries.

"That doesn't make it better!"

"If it makes you feel better, she was planning on breaking up with you anyway? I did you a favor, yeah?"

Harry scoffs, and Liam stares at him, and Zayn knows he's put his foot in it.

Zayn says, "Liam?"

And finds himself being handcuffed while Harry cheers loudly in the background.

\---

Zayn never thought he'd ever get arrested. He especially didn't think it'd be by one his best friends, shaking his head and locking Zayn in a cell with a disappointed frown on his face.

"You two are so fucked up, you know that?"

\---

His mom laughs for three whole minutes and Liam lets her take a picture of him behind the bars.

In the car, Zayn sulks and feels like a sixteen year old again. "It's not funny, momma."

"Oh but it is. You in jail because of sweet little Harry! I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe the two of you together, but not this."

"I've just been betrayed by my ex and my ex best friend could you be a little more sensitive."

"I could if I didn't think you deserved it, love. I can't believe you didn't call and say you were visiting."

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Well we're surprised all right!" His mother laughs, like this is the funniest thing in the world and Zayn really doesn't appreciate it.

"Did you tell dad?"

She nods, unapologetically, "Him and the girls."

Zayn groans. "They're never going to stop teasing me." He says, then, hopefully, "Does Doniya know?"

"Waliyha called her immediately. Can't waste an opportunity to pick on their brother." She says, fondly. And Zayn instantly suspects she's contributed her own jokes, was possibly the ringleader.

Zayn sinks into the leather seats of the car, the sound of his jeans rubbing against the fabric ringing loud in the silence that follows between them. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, guilt washing over him, “I should’ve called.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re here now, that’s all that matters. It’s the how that’s worrying me,” She glances over at him, suddenly too serious for Zayn’s liking. “Hilarity aside, you were arrested, Zayn.”

“I know,” Zayn says, miserably.

“A year since we’ve seen you and this is how it happens? A fight with Harry? Is there something I should know?”

He overdoes it when he shakes his head, nearly shaking it right off. “No, everything’s fine. Just a misunderstanding, is all.”

“Well it must’ve been a big misunderstanding that made Liam put handcuffs on you, Zayn. You’re not making any sense.”

“I actually really don’t want to talk about it?” Zayn says, cautiously, “I’ve just got something I need to work out. With Harry.”

It’s just become a lot more difficult than he first thought it would be.


End file.
